


Primal Urges

by AmoretteHD



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Draco, Cavemen, Dominant Harry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealous Harry, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Harry, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex In A Cave, Smart Draco, Time Travel, Top Harry, Virgin Draco Malfoy, caveman!Harry, fighting over Draco's honor, harry saves draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/AmoretteHD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An eighth year fic …er ... or should I say, a prehistoric fic? Draco gets hurtled back in time and meets caveman!Potter, who seems to like him much more than normal!Potter. Quite a bit more, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primal Urges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadCook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadCook/gifts).



> This was originally written for the 2012 hd_fan_fair career fest (since caveman and accidental-time-traveler count as careers, I swear!). I have done some tinkering with it to edit the grammar and smooth out some things in the content. Thank you to everyone who has read this story and commented ♥ It has become one of my own favorites. 
> 
> This was based on badcook's prompt for possessive caveman!Harry and exasperated but pleased Draco :) He is very pleased, indeed, I think.

Fucking Granger. Even after the war, she still managed to beat him in every subject they took together. Yesterday, she had received the top score on their Arithmancy test, and Draco fell to a lowly second. And just now, she had received higher marks on the paper they had submitted in Study of Ancient Runes. Draco had spent the entire weekend at the library, nose-deep in textbooks, conducting research for his thesis statement. As far as he knew, Granger had been gallivanting around Hogsmeade with bloody Weasley!

Draco stormed out of the Ancient Runes classroom clutching his parchment tightly in his fist. He was ready to rip it to shreds; 152 centimeters (about the height of an average first-year) of subpar analysis.

That was the last straw. He had to beat Granger on the upcoming exam if it was the last thing he did. It wasn’t even about getting his NEWTs anymore, it had somehow turned into a personal competition with Hermione Granger and who could receive the better marks. Draco didn’t like being beaten at things; it had always left him feeling rather rankled. If he could only get one measly point more than her… just one point! He vowed to study every night for a whole three weeks - including weekends.

If he could beat Granger, then he’d graduate with the top marks in his year. Being second-best wasn’t going to cut it for him now, not with the political climate how it was and with the Ministry’s probationary measures on young ex-Death Eaters. If he wanted to get anywhere in life now, he was going to have to impress people. Having top marks was just the thing to show he’d changed his direction in life and was focusing on serious matters, working towards being a valuable member of Wizarding society.

It was a decent plan and he was sticking to it.

He made his way past a large pack of frightened second years, who immediately cleared his path upon spotting him -- one perk, he supposed, of his recent notoriety -- and strode directly to the third floor. When he reached the stone gargoyle, he recited the password and hopped on the staircase.

He was about to knock on McGonagall’s door when it opened just as he was raising his hand. The person walking out apparently wasn’t expecting someone on the other side of the door, because he collided into Draco with surprising force.

 _Oomf!_ “Watch it, Potter!” Draco snarled, shoving him away.

Potter straightened the thin, wire frames that had been jostled from the impact. Running a hand through his hair, he looked Draco up and down with slight sneer. “Or you could stop standing in doorways?” he said lightly, and he went around Draco without so much as a second glance.

Draco watched him as he walked down the steps, even as the staircase was revolving downwards.

“Come in,” came McGonagall's call from inside, and Draco entered her office.

He stomped to her desk and stood in front of it with the parchment still crinkled within his tightly clenched fist. “Professor, I have an issue of utmost importance that I wish to discuss with you.”

“Please sit down, Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall gestured to one of the chairs. Draco looked at it, only just realizing the possibility of sitting, and plopped down heavily into the squishy armchair. “What is this very important issue?”

“I want to request the use of a Time Turner.”

McGonagall looked him in the eye with a sharply raised eyebrow and pursed lips. She seemed to be considering him thoroughly, and it made Draco’s leg twitch.

“I am not sure,” she said, “if that would be possible for you, unfortunately. The Ministry has placed strict guidelines for those students who took the Mark.”

“Yes I know, but guidelines on the use of _Time Turners_? Surely they have not even thought of it.”

McGonagall hesitantly admitted, “I don’t believe they’ve expressly forbidden their use. But...”

“Well, then! I don’t see why I can’t have the right to one, like every other student. I know Granger is using one right now.”

“Ms Granger has expressed to me her desire to catch up on the schoolwork she has missed because of the war, in one semester instead of two, because she has been offered work that begins before the end of the school year.”

“And that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

“You were here during your seventh year, Mr. Malfoy, if I recall correctly.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And have you been offered a job?”

“Well… no.” _And I never will if you don’t give me that Time Turner,_ Draco thought, becoming more frustrated with the conversation, as it seemed she was not inclined to grant him this. “But I was only for the first half of last year. I wasn’t here for the spring semester because I became detained with... well...” he looked away and felt himself flush, and he murmured, “... you know with what.”

McGonagall sighed. “To be honest with you, I don’t believe you need a Time Turner to catch up. You are only making up one semester, which you are a third of the way through now. And,” she put her hand up to pause Draco mid-protest, “ _and_ , I don’t think the Ministry would approve of my giving you access to such an object, in any case. So I am going to have to ask you to just do your best with the classes you are taking now, and forget about taking any extra.”

“But Professor, I _need_ to take more electives. If I am ever going to get hired anywhere, I need to be above average in academics. This is my future I’m thinking about.”

McGonagall’s featured softened, but only in the slightest.

“Am I to be punished for my stupid mistakes my entire life? I am trying to make amends, and I am trying to work hard for a better future. I know that if I took just as many classes as Granger, and I did well in them, then I might be able to prove myself.”

“Mr. Malfoy -”

“Please, Professor. I am asking you to do me this one favour. Like you said yourself, the Ministry hasn’t expressly said anything for or against my use of Time Turners. They wouldn’t even have to know....”

McGonagall studied him for a moment longer while Draco held his breath. She got out of her seat and slowly made her way to a cabinet by the window. Pulling apart the double doors, she reached in pulled out the tiny hourglass on its delicate golden chain, filled with shimmering sand.

Draco’s heart made a leap as he eyed the object. He couldn’t believe it - she was actually about to give him the Time Turner.

McGonagall returned to her seat and held out the magical device in her palm. “You cannot tell anyone that I have given you this.”

Draco shook his head frantically.

“And,” she continued, “you realize that this is a huge risk for me?” He nodded and said Yes, Ma’am. “We could both get into a heap of trouble if someone finds out, so be very careful about people noticing you are in two places at once.”

“Yes, of course. I certainly will, thank you.” Draco took the delicate thing and pulled the chain around his neck. The sand shimmered irridescently.

“I will inform your professors. Meet with the professors of your desired electives and let them know I have given you permission to enroll. I must say,” she continued in a less formal tone, “I am not comfortable at all with this arrangement. But I can’t bear to keep you from reaching your full potential. You are so young.... And Dumbledore would have given it to you.” Her gaze fell to the desk.

Draco nodded stiffly. “I do appreciate it, Professor,” he said softly. And it was true, his heart warmed toward the woman. She really wasn’t so bad, McGonagall. Even if she was the head of Gryffindor. A fault Draco couldn’t hold against her.

He turned to walk out, and just as he was about to push the door open, she called out to him.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he heard, and he paused, looking back over his shoulder. Her sharp gaze was back in full force, and she said, “I trust you.”

He smiled in what he hoped was not a nervous manner, and left.

This was great, he thought as he strolled confidently to lunch in the Great Hall. He had a Time Turner! Of course, this would mean more work for him, but he could do it. He had to.

He planned study sessions in his mind already, envisioning himself encircled in a cocoon of books in his favorite corner of the library. He would bring tea and snacks and have a grand old time. And the Time Turner would help him get all his extra work done now that he was going to take on a few more subjects.

Maybe he would even use it to study extra long for the upcoming Runes exam! He smiled to himself as he imagined the look on Granger’s face when they got their exams back and his marks were better than hers.

His fingers idly toyed with the device. Which subjects should he take? Maybe he should actually take - Merlin help him - _Muggle Studies_ , if only to show people he’d changed. But it would be rough; he could already feel the sneer forming on his lips at the thought.

And suddenly he was jolted out of his thoughts by another forceful crash into a human being.

He yelled out as he fell on his arse on the hard, stone floor. Looking up, Draco saw a flash of red hair and a flash of bushy brown hair as well. And there was Potter, staring down at him with a frown.

He got up and collected his bag off the floor, swinging it back onto his shoulder. “What the _fuck_ , Potter? Do you not have eyes? Do you need to get your glasses checked?”

“I could say the same for you. I’m going to start to think you’re bumping into me on purpose today.”

Draco sneered. “I don’t wear glasses,” he reminded him. “It’s you who has the vision problem. And it’s you who has the stalking problem, too, don’t forget.”

Potter’s frown deepened. “Whatever, Malfoy, just watch where you’re going.”

“You watch it.”

Weasley decided this was the time for him to intervene. “Just let it go, Harry, he’s not worth it.” Draco hated how these words stung, despite the fact that he told himself he didn’t care what Potter thought of him; but it was probably true, he probably didn’t think Draco was worth anything at all.

Granger took a few steps toward Potter looking worried. She kept glancing between him and Draco, as though scared they were about to break out into a brawl.

But Draco had no time for such things anymore. No, he had to keep his head low and stay out of trouble, so there would be no brawls today.

“Well,” he said stiffly, “as much fun as it’s been catching up, I have a lot of work to do.”

“Oh!” Granger exclaimed. “Is that a Time Turner? Have you got one as well?”

Fuck! No one was supposed to see it.

He tucked it hastily into the front of his robe. “I’m taking extra electives starting this week.” There was, admittedly, a thrill of pleasure as as he said it and he couldn’t help but smile at the expression of surprise on Granger’s face.

“Oh, brilliant,” she said brightly. “I wonder if we’ll be in the same classes now.” Evidently she was trying for _nice._

Nice wasn’t so bad on her, Draco admitted. But he didn’t like feeling like a charity case, and he couldn’t help the sneer that tugged his lips.

“Hermione,” Weasley said, turning to her, “you don’t have to be nice to him, you know.”

Granger shot him a sharp look that Draco guessed was supposed to shut Weasley up. But she really needn’t bother defending him.

“It’s fine, Weasley, don’t get into a spat over it. Wouldn’t want to see you break up with your girlfriend over me, in any case.”

Potter snorted. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“Well it’s clear that you don’t,” Draco spat, his temperature rising, “so get out of my way and go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

“I think that would be impossible for him,” Weasley said, and Granger slapped his arm warningly but was obviously trying to hide a grin of her own. Potter’s cheeks had turned pink as he scowled at his friends.

So Potter obsessed over how much he hated him, did he? Well that wasn’t a big surprise; Potter had always disliked him, and Draco returned the feeling tenfold. It didn’t matter that Potter had swooped down gallantly on a broom and saved his life, that memory didn’t make his chest stir at all.

“Yes, I know you hate me, big fucking deal. It’s not news to me. Especially after what I’ve done and all that, yes, I’m horrible.” He was growing impatient being in their presence and enduring their judgment, and he thought desperately of his cozy little corner in the library. “I don’t need anyone to be nice to me,” he added bitterly. “Try minding your own business instead.”

He tried to walk around them, but Potter grabbed him by the elbow. “Why do you have to be such a dick, Malfoy?”

Draco shook him off and rounded on him, looking him eye to eye. “Why don’t you just stay out of my _way_ , Potter?” he said for the billionth time, becuase Potter seemed to have a hearing problem as well as a vision problem. Draco shoving him hard in the chest.

“What if I don’t want to?” Potter pushed him back so hard that Draco almost lost his footing.

And before he knew it, Draco was involved in the brawl that he’d so desperately wanted to avoid. He didn’t know who threw the first punch, but soon they were both on the floor trying to smash each other’s faces into the stone. At one point, Draco managed to get on top of Potter, straddling his waist and trying to hit him while Potter grabbed him by the forearms and tried to wrestle him off.

He felt someone pull him from behind, and he stumbled onto his feet while Potter got up. Draco struggled to get out of the person’s grip, but he realized it was Weasley and that as well as being rather tall he was also pretty strong.

“Let go of me!” Draco shouted.

Granger was pulling Potter’s arm as he took the few steps toward Draco. He reached for him, but she pulled him back just as he was about to grab Draco’s robes by the neck. His fist grabbed the chain of the Time Turner instead, and as he was wrenched back from Draco, the chain snapped.

Draco felt as if his heart would stop, as he watched as the little hourglass twirled through the air, spinning countless times. If it fell, it would shatter, and then he definitely wouldn’t be getting another one.

Without another thought, Draco leapt toward the Time Turner, ignoring Granger’s shout of, “Malfoy, don’t!” He couldn’t let it hit the floor.

He reached for it, and it landed right into his outstretched hand -- all those years playing Seeker paid off. Then he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, and he was sucked into darkness.

 

*

 

Draco opened his eyes slowly, and for a moment he panicked, thinking he’d damaged his vision somehow. But then he realized that he was in a very poorly lighted place and his eyes were fine.

It was also a cool place. And a hard place, if his sore back muscles gave any indication. The smell of damp earth overwhelmed him. He looked around once his vision became accustomed to the darkness, and he realized that he was staring at the ceiling of a cave.

He sat up swiftly and immediately felt a pounding in his head.

“Ow,” he whined, lifting a hand to his sore scalp. He had hit his head? When had that happened?

And how had he ended up in a _cave?_

He looked around the stony, dim cave and it all came flooding back to him. With a sharp inhale of breath, he remembered the fight with Potter, the Time Turner spinning rapidly as it lurched through the air. He had reached out for it. _Like an idiot._

“Fuck!” he shouted, and his voice echoed back to him as it reverberated into the deep, dark expanse that lay before Draco.

He knew how Time Turners worked, why had he done that? His pulse was beginning to race as the enormity of the situation flooded him. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. He tried to swallow his anxiety before he completely flipped out, and decided to assess his situation. The only way he could fix this is if he remain calm and didn’t lose his mind.

The cave was so gloomy and lonely. He turned toward the entrance to it, where there was light, and he slowly crawled to his feet.

He was naked.

Draco frantically looked around for his robes but he couldn’t see them anywhere. Not under that rock. Not behind the slimy drippy thing... Nowhere!

He felt his breath become short and he clutched at his head again, the pounding dull and but constant.

Stop it, he thought. He had to stop panicking and start thinking.

The first thing he needed to do- yes, before even worrying about his clothes - was to figure out the date. He could be anywhere, in any time period. That thing had spun around about a thousand times.

And in order to figure out where he was, he’d have to get out of this cave. Somebody had obviously brought him here, as well as fixed up his bruises and removed all his clothing. They would surely know what the date was. Of course, if said person was living in a cave, then maybe they didn’t know a lot about anything....

But they knew enough to dress all of the cuts and scratches painting Draco’s body. He felt along one pink line over his ribs and discovered that there was a sticky, salve-like substance on the cut. There was also a scratch on his upper thigh. He blushed at the thought that a stranger had taken off his pants and gazed openly at his cock and balls. Though, he supposed the person was only trying to be thorough.

He made his way to the cave entrance, and he got his first view of the world outside. It was sometime in the evening and the sun was going down in the sky, bathing the world in bright orange light. Draco looked around in awe at trees taller and thicker than he had ever laid eyes on. There was vegetation everywhere, and the pungent aroma of flowers and fresh grass filled his lungs. It seemed he was in some sort of lush forest, overgrown with plants that were larger in scale than normal.

What time period was he in?

He heard a rustling on his right and he quickly turned to the source of the noise. His mouth fall open upon seeing the man who emerged from the trees. He was also naked, except for an animal-skin loincloth that left very, _very_ little to the imagination. His skin was sun-kissed with color, and the muscles of his body were clearly defined. And his thick, black hair fell around his face as if blown by a storm.

It was Potter! Harry bloody Potter, wearing next to nothing and walking up to Draco in this crazy, surreal past life. Draco felt a bit dizzy.

He put his hand to his head and started to inhale heavily, Potter’s image blurring and tripling before his dazed eyes. He had to figure out what was happening, and where he was, and why Potter was walking up to him and reaching out...

Draco thoughts slowed to a stop as he felt himself lose consciousness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found his face pressed against a hard, toned chest. He blinked against at the light dusting of hair that he could see perfectly from this close. Strong arms held him upright.

Draco looked up, and Potter’s concerned face was staring down at him. Great. He was naked in Potter’s arms, having passed out for a minute all ponce-like. And yet, he noticed that that he felt no desire to get up.

Then he was heaved up into Potter’s embrace, one of Potter’s hands on his back and one under Draco’s knees. He yelped and swung his arms around Potter’s neck to steady himself.

Potter was carrying him back to the cave. Oh, Merlin.

When they got inside, the cool air of the dark cave immediately felt refreshing to Draco’s skin, which was burning up. He supposed the lurch of time travel so far back into the past, and the shock of it all - not to mention that he’d clearly hit his head at one point - must be taking a toll on his body and making him slightly feverish.

It seemed as if he had traveled back to some prehistoric time, where Potter lived in a cave and walked around in a loin cloth. Were there more cave people, or was Potter the only one? Surely he couldn’t be the only one.

Potter laid him down on his back atop a mat of long, interwoven grasses. He dipped his bare hand into a small bowl of water and smoothed his wet palm over Draco’s forehead.

“Potter,” Draco said, trying to move his hand away.

But Potter grabbed him and held his arm by his side. Potter’s other hand continued to smooth the cool water over Draco’s forehead.

Well fine, if he was going to be manhandled into submission… Draco closed his eyes. It was actually nice when he relaxed and let himself enjoy the feeling. Potter’s palm was slightly rough, but when the pads of his fingers traced water down one of Draco’s cheekbones and along his jaw, Draco felt his heart speed up.

“Potter,” Draco tried again, a bit more softly. Who was he kidding? Potter probably couldn’t understand him.

But he needed to find out things, such as, where was his stuff? Was his backpack here, or his wand? And what in the name of Merlin’s beard happened to the Time Turner?

Draco felt the head-pounding return, and he made a move to sit up, but Potter put both hands on his shoulders and held him against the mat.

“Potter!” Draco said for the third time. “Not now, I need to find my things.”

Potter looked down at him with a furrowed brow.

“My things,” Draco continued, praying Potter would somehow understand or get the hint. “My robe... which you so obviously stole... and my wand. My _things_ , Potter!” He started to gesture all over his body with his hands, trying to indicate the concept of a robe, or clothing.

Potter made a strange grunting sound at the back of his throat, and he reached out and touched Draco, apparently attempting to mimic Draco’s movements. He traced his collarbone and then ran a flat palm down Draco’s chest, over a nipple, along his ribs, across his stomach, dipping a finger gingerly into his belly button....

Draco giggled and flinched. “Stop it!” he said, shoving Potter’s hand away. Potter shoved his hand right back, and they soon had a little shoving match that ended with Potter pinning Draco’s arms over his head.

Draco swallowed. Being pinned down while totally naked, and Potter was being rough with him.... Draco’s chest rose and fell as his breathing became heavier. Without even realizing he was doing it, he bent his knees until his feet were flat on the ground and his legs were ever-so-slightly splayed.

Potter stared down at him, his body on top of Draco’s as he laid right on his chest. His face was so close, and Draco noticed for the first time that he wasn’t wearing glasses....

Then Potter lowered his head into Draco’s hair, and Draco both heard and felt him inhale. Potter was smelling him. He was smelling his hair as he had him trapped, with his arms pinned over his head and private areas utterly exposed. And why did Draco suddenly need to arch his back?

This caveman Potter seemed to like him.

Potter suddenly released him and got up, trotting to the other side of the cave. Draco felt even more uncomfortably naked without Potter’s body pressing on top of him.

He lay there, never bringing his hands back down, as he watched Potter’s body move - the muscles in his back and in his thighs made Draco swallow heavily again. Potter knelt down, and Draco heard him rustling through some things hidden in the shadows. The loin cloth covering Potter’s arse shifted up dangerously, and Draco was flooded with the desire to see Potter balls, if only it would ride up just the tiniest bit more.

Unfortunately -- but probably for the best, because what the hell had come over him?! -- Potter stood back up without flashing him and came back carrying a long strand of some type of string. Dangling off it were tiny white seashells and white pebbles. There were also a few white, dagger-like teeth that looked like they had once belonged to a small but vicious animal.

He put his hand under Draco’s head and lifted it off the mat. Carefully, Potter put the necklace around Draco’s neck.

Draco lowered one hand to lightly touch the necklace, tracing a delicate white seashell with his fingertips. What did this gift mean?

Potter laid down next to him on the grass mat, which was hardly wide enough for Draco. He then felt one of Potter’s strong arms take hold of him around the waist, pulling him toward Potter’s outstretched body. He threw a gorgeous, heavy leg over Draco’s and settled his face into Draco’s shoulder.

Draco didn’t move a muscle. Caveman Potter was cuddling him.

“Potter,” he whispered as he poked his arm, which gripped his waist tightly. “Are you going to sleep now?”

In answer, Potter yawned and pulled Draco even closer to his hard, warm body. He was basically on top of him, and Draco could feel Potter’s heartbeat. He closed his eyes and listened, just for a moment.

 

 

When Draco woke up, he was, again, alone in the cave. The light pouring into the cave told him that it was morning, and he had slept through the night soundly. Potter was gone.

He really needed to find his things and try to get out of there. There must be some way to get back home - there had to be. He couldn’t be stuck here forever with prehistoric Potter, no matter how good the git looked in his loin cloth. With his manly physique, his dusting of chest hair, his strong hands gripping Draco and lifting him.... Stop it! Focus.

He walked through the forest, not knowing what he was looking for but determined to explore his surroundings. Maybe he’d find a clue as to where he was, in case that helped him any.

Scowling, he brushed his way deeper into the dense forest, finding it extremely difficult to navigate -- he wasn’t exactly accustomed to traipsing through harsh wilderness. Just when he suspected he might be lost and a twinge of panic seeped in, he noticed a small pathway winding through the trees. It was made where the grasses were beaten down, as though from frequent travelers treading the same route every day. He might as well follow one of these paths, since it could lead him to more people.

He was right. Only a twenty minute walk revealed a small village with a few well-placed wooden huts, hidden inside the circle of thick trees. Draco peaked through the branches.

So there were more of these cave people, just as he’d suspected. All of them wore loin cloths just like Potter, and the women walked around with their breasts hanging freely. Draco grimaced. He had never been that way inclined.

There was a rustle of leaves behind him and Draco jumped around.

“Oh,” he breathed in relief. “Potter. It’s you.” He yelped as Potter grabbed him. “Bloody hell!”

With Potter’s grip unyieldingly firm on his arm, Draco had no choice but to let himself be dragged through the thick underbrush, not relishing the idea of fighting. He had no doubt that this Potter could physically dominate him. Somehow this knowledge inspired both a flare of angry frustration as well as a flare of heat low in Draco’s stomach.

Though maybe the latter could be attributed to the fact that his dangling prick bobbed up and down with each step, his balls slapping against his thighs as he hurried to keep up with Potter’s pace.

They came upon a river, and only then did Potter let go of Draco’s arm. Draco watched him as he jogged over to the streaming water and fell to his knees before it. He dipped both hands in and let the water run over them for a moment. Then he looked back, and his bright green eyes roamed Draco’s body in a way that reminded Draco very distinctly of the look real-Potter had given him in the hallway of Hogwarts, moments before that stupid fight.

Cave Potter got up and strode determinedly in Draco’s direction, and Draco stiffened and almost flinched away. But he let himself be dragged to the river’s shore nonetheless. His breath hitched when Potter grabbed him at the back of the thigh. His other hand smudged over the dirt that painted Draco’s chest.

Admittedly, he hadn’t noticed just how filthy he was from sleeping on the floor of the cave and roaming through the forest all day. Draco just realized that he was sweaty and gross, covered in dirt here and there, and still sticky from the salve substance on his mostly-healed cuts and bruises.

Potter pushed him into the river.

Draco’s head submerged below the surface of the water, the river’s bank was steep and he hadn’t been expecting that. He kicked his way up again, swimming to the top. “Bloody hell!” Draco shouted when he managed to emerge from the cool water, sputtering and spitting, shaking water out of his ears and nose.

Then he froze, and stared. Potter was still on the shore, removing his loin cloth. His simply pulled a string at the side, and the thing fell straight to the ground. Just like that. Potter was completely exposed.

Draco’s mouth suddenly went completely dry as he eyed Potter’s cock. Merlin, the girth... It was half hard and surrounded by dark hair so natural and unkempt. Draco couldn’t take his eyes off it. When Potter walked into the water, Draco was disappointed that it disappeared from view.

The water was so clear that both their cocks were visible beneath the stream once Potter swam closer. Draco’s was completely hard.

As the birds chirped somewhere overhead, unseen but heard, they floated naturally down to a shallow part of the river where Draco was glad to be able to touch his feet to the ground. A willow tree curved over the river, its long, thin branches dipping into the water. It’s small leaves floated along with the stream, as well as small flowers that were white and yellow. Draco found himself surrounded in a bath of cool, clean water filled with floating flowers, the fragrance fresh and sweet.

Potter then proceeded to wash him. He rubbed Draco’s body under the water, everywhere that there was dirt. There were smudges on his thighs, and Potter used his hands to get rid of them, one hands on each side of a thigh and rubbing up and down until the skin was clean. He picked up Draco’s arm and flipped it to see the Dark Mark. He then cupped some water in his palm and brought it up to the black tattoo, scrubbing at it furiously.

“Oh, that’s not going to come off, Potter,” Draco said, almost mournfully.

He closed his eyes as Potter’s hands smoothed over his skin, lighting him on fire from the inside. He felt so relaxed, and so open.

He let his legs drift apart, his feet massaged from the coarse sand at the shallow floor of the river where they were standing. His cock and arse were thrumming with feeling. Potter’s fingers were in his pubic hair, giving them a thorough wash.

He felt himself being turned around, and Draco’s breathlessly complied. Hands were massaging his back and cool water was being poured over his shoulders. Then he felt Potter’s hands kneading the soft mounds of his arse and rubbing underneath the cheeks where they met with his thighs. He let out a whimper of pleasure. His cock jerked and was surely leaking by now.

After Potter seemed to be satisfied with the cleanliness of his body, he pushed Draco against a large boulder jutting into the water from the shore. Draco bent over the boulder, sprawled onto it, with his bottom half still emerged in water.

Apparently Draco had been wrong to assume Potter was satisfied. Apparently, Potter did not think he was clean enough yet.

Draco felt the cheeks of his arse being spread. His heart banged against his chest, his breath getting shallower all the time. Potter was going to clean him _everywhere_. In his most secret, private place, never before exposed to anyone’s view....

Potter’s finger traced around his entrance, and Draco yelped slightly at the sensation. The circular motion continued, aided by the water, until Draco was spreading his legs in a plea for more. His breath came out in little panting whimpers. The knowledge that he couldn’t fight back against Potter drove him wild inside; that he had no choice but to let Potter do this to him, to touch him there if it so pleased him.

Draco felt his arsehole stretching over the intrusion of Potter’s finger. He was so ready for it at his point that it barely stung, and the water helped sooth his sensitive skin. Potter pushed his finger into Draco’s arse at a steady pace, and when it was all the way in, he began fucking Draco with that single finger, one of his hands splayed across Draco’s back, holding him steady. Draco moaned openly from the pleasure that surged straight to his already leaking cock.

Potter didn’t seem to think even this was good enough, because he placed his hands under Draco’s shoulder and lifted his bottom out of the water. Draco laid with his legs spread higher up the rock. Only his knees were submerged now, his arse fully in the air in Potter’s face. Potter let out an animalistic grunt and spread Draco’s cheeks more, this time placing his face between them.

Draco moaned at the feeling of Potter’s hot tongue lapping away at his hole. He arched his back, pushing his bottom out further toward Potter, who held him from below his arse cheeks. Draco felt Potter’s tongue slide over the furrowed skin in long stripes, one, two, three times before it jabbed at his hole viciously. Draco barely noticed himself howling obscenely as he continued to be tongue-fucked. Then, Potter’s tongue disappeared, and Draco felt the softer press of lips encircling his hole. Potter’s lips _sucked_ , and Draco came all over the boulder.

After he had ridden out his release, Draco slid back into the water, back into Potter’s arms which encircled him from behind and held him up from his waist and chest. Then Potter picked him up in the same fashion with which he carried him into the cave last night. Draco again gripped his neck, this time not caring in the slightest how it looked.

He never failed to be shocked at Potter’s strength and stamina. Potter carried Draco all the way back to the village, never pausing for breath and not loosening his grip for a moment. People turned to stare at them, and Draco hid his face in Potter’s neck. Everyone could see his prick and dangling balls, and Draco felt the heat rise up in his cheeks.

Potter set him down on his feet, and Draco immediately scrambled to cover his privates, placing his hands over himself like a shield. Potter seemed to have no problem with being naked amongst all these people, because he walked confidently across the clearing and up to an older man. Not that he had any reason to be embarrassed, Draco thought as he admired Potter’s arse from behind. Potter and the man sat down by a small fire, and Potter dipped the end of a stick into it. From the ashes, he was able to make markings onto a large, flat stone.

They were communicating through symbols! It was strangely impressive.

Then Draco felt the press of hands on his shoulder, and he turned to see a burly, hairy, _beast_ of a man holding onto him.

“Ugh,” Draco murmured. The man smelled like manure and body odour. A terrible combination. And he had a scraggly beard and insane, scraggly hair. Even his eyebrows fanned out into untidy bushes over his eyes.

Now _here_ was a caveman.

Draco tried to shrug him off, shouting profanities that he knew the man didn’t understand, but he couldn’t manage it. The man was much too strong and his grip on Draco much too tight.

“Get off!” Draco shouted with one last attempt at a shove, but he was unsuccessful again. The caveman grabbed him with both hands now and pushed him over. Draco fell on his arse into the dirt, hard. “Are you kidding me?” he shouted. “I just spent an intoxicating hour getting clean!”

He got up and slapped at his bum to dust it off, but he stopped abruptly when he noticed the way the man stared at him. His eyes were dark and he was making little grunting noises. Draco promptly removed his hand from his arse and put it in front of his groin, eyeing the man carefully.

Throwing his head back with a howl and a single, fisted bang to his overly-muscular chest, the man charged at Draco like a wolf charging at its prey. Draco yelled out and tried to run, but the man grabbed him by the waist and hoisted Draco onto his shoulder as easily as if Draco was a twig.

“Potter! Potter, Potter, Pottterrrr!” Draco shouted over and over again. Fuck, Potter didn’t know that was his name!

Pounding with his fists on the disgusting hairy back to no avail, Draco felt like he was going to be sick. The man was walking away from the clearing, and his wide hand was gripping Draco so high up his thigh that it almost brushed his scrotum. He was going to ravaged by this man, he knew it. And Potter wasn’t going to save him.

Draco suddenly felt an awakening in his heart, as he found himself wishing and begging the deities for Potter. It was Potter’s touch he wanted, not this … this... Neanderthal’s! He wanted Potter to lay him down and bury his face in his hair like he did last night, and to touch him in his delicate places with that tender but demanding touch....

“Potter,” he moaned quietly once more, feeling hopeless over the caveman’s shoulder. The necklace that Potter gave him dangled from his neck, and he gripped the little white shells that were threaded so delicately through the string.

Then he heard a shout, and he lifted his head to see Potter, running toward him from across the clearing.

Draco’s heart lurched in happiness. “Yes!” he shouted. He waved his arms, reaching toward Potter desperately, and then pounded again in the man’s back. “Come get me!”

Potter caught up to them, and Draco reached out to hold his outstretched hands. He let his hands climb Potter’s arm, until they were holding each other at the elbows, clutching at one another and forcing the caveman to halt.

The caveman turned, and Draco was ripped from Potter once again as the caveman faced him instead. There were shouts, and Draco felt grabs at his legs, and pulling and grasping. Eventually, Draco found himself on the ground, and he looked up to see Potter and the man wrestling on their feet next to him. The man was much more wide and muscular than Potter was, but Potter was choking him at the neck. They looked like wild animals.

Two other cavemen ran over and attempted to separate the pair. Watching the confusing tangle of four sets of limbs made Draco’s head pound again, but eventually the Neanderthal was free of Potter’s grasp, and he roared at him while rubbing his throat.

There seemed to be a conversation taking place among the four men. Arm waving and grunting all culminated in the four heads turning distinctly to Draco, who noticed then that he was still on the ground. He straightened himself up and attempted to dust off, when the Neanderthal made moves toward him again.

“No, no,” Draco muttered when the man reached for him again. But instead, all he did was grab the necklace Draco wore and he pulled it up and off from around Draco’s head. With a roar that sent birds fluttering out of the nearby trees, the man thrust the necklace onto the dirt with force.

Potter looked angry but he did not make any move to pick up the necklace. In fact, he turned and stomped to the middle of the clearing.

There was a crowd now, Draco noticed, full of curious faces. All of them watched Potter reach the center and then turn, with his hands on his hips, to look towards Draco again.

Then the two interfering men came up to Draco and each took him by one of his arms. Draco struggled but it was useless; they were both much stronger than him. They dragged him to the middle of the little clearing where there was a contraption that looked like a primitive chair. It was more like a stool made out of a slab of wood placed horizontally on top of two large rocks. To his utter mortification, Draco found himself placed on his stomach across the wooden bench part. The men adjusted him so that his arse was sticking straight up in the air, and Draco could feel the draft of open air against his exposed arsehole. He instinctively brought his hands back to cover himself, but he felt them slapped away again. He felt hands on his cheeks, opening him up even more, followed by a roaring shout by one of the men.

He felt like chattel on display for the highest bidder, and the prize was his sweet, tight hole, which caught the attention of these cavemen. He was probably the prettiest thing they’d ever seen, he thought sarcastically, cheeks burning with humiliation at being so crudely presented. His head was pounding.

Turning his head, he watched the brawl taking place between Potter and the caveman. Potter was fierce and determined. His face was strained as he tried to hold off the burly man, who was attempting to push him backward with hands on his shoulders. Potter’s stance was wide, and he pushed right back. Then he ducked suddenly, and the cavemen lost his footing and fell forward right onto Potter’s back.

Draco’s breath hitched, because Potter surely couldn’t have survived a mountain like that falling on top of him. But the mountain of muscle moved, and it wasn’t to stand back up. He moved because Potter lifted him, his thighs braced and his biceps flexing as he hauled the man into the air and dropped him right into the dirt. Before the man could make any sort of move to get up, Potter had his foot wedged over his throat, choking him. The caveman tried to grasp at Potter’s foot and leg, but Potter lifted off his other foot and put more weight on the man’s throat.

Draco winced as he watched the man’s face go purple with pain and lack of air. The cavemen then pounded on the ground with his fist, three times. A roar of howls and yelps sounded from the onlookers, who jumped up and down and clapped and pounded their chests. After Potter removed his foot, he raised his arms into the air. He had won.

He walked out of Draco’s line of vision, but he soon returned with the string of shells. Kneeling down by Draco’s head, he placed the necklace back around his neck, claiming him as his own once again.

Then Draco felt himself being lifted off the bench by Potter’s strong arms. This time, he found himself draped over Potter’s shoulder. He winced and blushed when Potter slapped his arse three times in front of the roaring crowd, before carrying him out of the clearing.

Although Draco could not see ahead, he knew Potter was taking him back to his cave. Draco’s heart raced as he developed a suspicion of what was about to happen. He also felt his cock harden at the thought, and he knew Potter had also felt it because he brought his hard up to Draco’s arse and caressed it the rest of the way to the cave.

When then finally got inside, Potter heaved him up and off his shoulder, placing him down on the straw mat. Draco was on his back, but Potter grabbed him firmly and flipped him over. He then took him by the hips and pulled him up so that he was on his hands and knees.

Potter’s hands traced up his back, and Draco arched into the touch. Then he felt the press of something hard and hot against the cleft of his arse. When only one hand held tightly at his hips, Draco knew that Potter was using his other to position his cock at Draco’s entrance. Sure enough, the press of the head was the next thing Draco felt.

He yelled into the cave, and it echoed back at him. Potter was not gentle, and he did not ease himself in; he pushed in at a steady pace, like he did his finger. Draco forgave him though, because he’d rather have Potter than anyone else, and he knew Potter couldn’t help it. All this prehistoric version of Potter just knew was that he wanted Draco, and he’d won him, and that was that.

Draco found himself moaning in pleasure soon enough, as his prostate was brushed with every other thrust. Oh, was there ever thrusting. Potter fucked Draco like an animal would fuck its mate. He grunted over him viciously, and he pounded into him as if he would die without another delicious thrust into Draco’s arse. Draco was pushed onto his elbows from the sheer force of it.

His own cock bobbed back and forth, and he felt himself nearing the edge. He parted his lips in a silent scream, then he came all over the mat. Arse muscles clenching around Potter’s cock, his knees gave out and he collapsed.

He heard Potter howl, and he felt the odd sensation of warm liquid filling him on the inside.

Without pretense, Potter pulled out, and Draco heard him moving around the cave. He’d gotten his use of him, and now Draco lay panting in on the ground alone.

Draco stayed there with his cheek pressed to the mat, blinking at the wall of the cave. There were charcoal etchings that looked like stick people and stick animals.

What was he doing here? Merlin, he just wanted to go home! He wanted to be in his bed in the Slytherin dungeons, to cuddle up safe and warm in his covers. Maybe this was all a bad dream -- if a seriously hot one -- and he would wake up that morning and everything would be normal. He’d go to class and see the real Potter who could actually talk and respond to him. A twinge of pain stung him when he remembered the real Potter hated him. He would never touch him like this.

And how Draco longed for it now.

Now that he knew what it felt like to be the object of Potter’s affections, he craved it from the real thing. So badly.

There was one thought that gave him hope: if caveman Potter was this viscerally, fundamentally attracted to Draco, perhaps the real Potter, underneath all the bullshit between them, was attracted to him too.

He moved to get up, wincing at how sore his knees and _arse_ were, when he noticed a glint of light a bit deeper in the cave.

Something inside Draco clicked, urging him to go and see what that was. He rose to his feet, eyes trained on the spot where he saw the shining light. With every step, he felt his heart swell in his chest. He walked deeper into the cave than he had ever done, and right there in the corner where the light from the entrance could still shine off its surface lay McGonagall’s Time Turner.

Draco gasped out loud, his shock reverberating back at him with an echo. Here it was the whole time, lying on its side in a corner of the cave. Bending down to pick up the Time Turner, he looked around and saw that his school robe and his backpack were here as well. His wand was still nowhere in sight, but his racing mind thought maybe he’d dropped it during the fight and it was still at Hogwarts, safe and sound.

Hogwarts. Oh, Hogwarts! It was a possibility now. With the Time Turner, he could finally go back to his time. He could go home. He could actually leave this bloody cave and bloody prehistoric Potter.

Draco turned back to Potter, who was sitting on the grass mat and sharpening a stick with a rock. Draco smiled sadly.

He got dressed quickly. Then he walked back over to Potter, hourglass in hand. As he approached, Potter looked up from his stick. Draco wanted to die when Potter beamed up at him, smiling. For a moment he wondered if he could just stay here forever just to see that expression on Potter’s face directed at him every day.

But then Potter went right back to his stick, pulling the stone across the end to sharpen it into a point.

“Potter,” Draco said.

Potter raised his head again and blinked up at him. Draco reached down and traced his brow with his thumb, and Potter’s eyes fluttered shut. He was so sweet, this Potter. Why couldn’t the real Potter be this way? Surely he must be, deep down? If this was him at his simplest state....

Draco’s thoughts were cut off when Potter abruptly stood. He was looking curiously at the Time Turner, and he grabbed it out of Draco’s hands before Draco even took notice.

“No,” Draco said with a slight panic. “Potter, give that back.” Potter tilted his head and shook it. “No! That is not a toy! Give it back!” He leapt at it but Potter held it out of his reach.

Then Potter drew his arm back, and Draco knew what he was about to do. No, no, no, no....

“NO!” Draco shouted as the hourglass flew out of Potter’s hand and soared towards the wall of the cave. Draco watched with a sick drop in his stomach as the glass smashed against the wall. The iridescent sand shimmered beautifully as it cascaded down the stone and pooled messily on the ground.

Draco dropped to his knees, his strength failing him. Potter simply blinked once at the mess, then he sat back down on his mat and took up his rock and stick. Draco was going to be sick. He knew he was going to empty his stomach all over --

Suddenly a familiar lurch pulled him from his spine through his stomach, and then there was only blackness once more.

 

*

 

Draco was tired of waking up and not knowing where he was. This was simply too much shock for one person -- he was sure his brain would shut down any moment and he would just die. Well, maybe nothing so dramatic, but it surely couldn’t be healthy to be so disoriented all the time.

When he realized where he was, he shot up into a sitting position.

“Ow!” he shouted, gripping the back of his head where the pounding had returned full force.

At least he was in the Hospital Wing. In Hogwarts. He never thought he’d be so happy to see the hospital wing, but it meant he was home! Somehow, miraculously, he was home. There was the school emblem over the doorway to the wing. Here he was in the familiar hospital wing gown, light blue and utterly utilitarian. And there was Potter perched nervously on one of the metal hospital wing chairs.

“Potter!” Draco croaked.

“You’re awake,” Potter said, leaning forward. “Do you … do you need anything? Madame Pomfrey said to give you water when you woke up.”

 

Draco blinked. Water? “Yes, all right.” He glared at Potter suspiciously as he hurried to pick up the pitcher and pour water into a glass on the nightstand. When he handed the glass over, Draco snatched it out of his hands and lifted it to his lips, staring at Potter over the edge of it.

Mmm, he hadn’t realized how utterly parched he was.

Potter cleared his throat nervously then, and Draco looked back at him, placing the glass on the nightstand. “Are you feeling okay?” Potter asked.

“No,” Draco said truthfully. “How did I get here?”

“You just... appeared.”

Draco blinked at him. “Appeared?”

“Yes,” Potter said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, er... you appeared in the hallway not five minutes after you had gone. What happened, Malfoy? Where did you go? One minute we were fighting, and then you reached for the Time Turner and got pulled away.”

“Yes, I remember,” Draco huffed. “And it’s all your fault! You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?”

Potter’s mouth clenched into a thin line.

“I could have been stuck in the past forever!”

“You didn’t have to grab it...” Potter mumbled petulantly.

Draco’s mouth fell open. “Didn’t have to.... Fuck you, Potter! I’m lucky the thing even smashed, or else I doubt -”

“It smashed?”

“I... yes.”

“Oh, so that’s how it happened.”

“How what happened?” Draco spat.

“How you got back. We were trying to figure out how you got back without the Time Turner, and McGonagall said it could have been any number of ways, but the most likely way is that the thing was destroyed.”

Draco could tell his confusion was written on his face, because Potter clarified.

“When a Time Turner is destroyed, the user automatically returns to the time in which he belongs. By default. It’s sort of like the jig is up, party’s over, you go back home.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco grabbed his head. He never knew that. All this trouble so that he could get top marks in school. His life was such a mess, what was he going to do with himself? He felt like he just wanted to sleep for a month.

“Listen” Potter said, “I’m sorry I picked that fight with you. It’s that I didn’t...” he heaved a frustrated sigh, and Draco saw him blush. “You... you’ve just been so... _reserved_ this year, and well, Ron’s right.” He licked his lips. “I have been noticing you. And not just this year, either.”

Draco wasn’t sure what he was hearing, what Potter was trying to say, but it was making his skin prickle pleasantly, and he was getting kind of hot under the thin hospital wing blanket.

“I really wasn’t trying to get in your way, though. But I don’t mind… er… bumping into you.”

When he finished, he looked resolutely away from Draco, and he fiddled with the blanket, turning and twisting the edge with his fingers.

Potter liked him.

He liked him in every century!

Draco couldn’t control the grin that broke out over his face. “You like me, Potter.”

Potter’s eyes jumped up to meet his, his cheeks blushed furiously. “No, I don’t!”

Draco raised his eyebrows at him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Potter continued lamely. “Of course I don’t like you. How could I like someone so rude, and stuck up, and … and... blond?”

“Blond?”

“Yes. You’re too blond. For my taste, anyway.” Potter swallowed, his eyes curiously staring straight at Draco’s much too blonde head.

“Right. You like redheads, silly of me to forget.”

“Not anymore, I don’t,” Potter muttered.

“What was that?” Draco asked sharply. Had Potter broken up with Weasely’s sister?

Potter peaked up at him under his lashes, smiling shyly.

“Are you saying you no longer favor gingers, Potter?” Draco pressed, as this was life-changing news and he must find out.

“Well,” Potter said, “it’s not that I don’t like redheads...”

Draco sneered.

“...it’s just that I’ve discovered a lot about myself recently. And I’ve learned I favor something else entirely.”

Suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded, Draco licked his lips and asked, “Is that why you’re here, tonight?”

Potter looked him in the eye with that intensity of his - the strange mix of intensity and shyness that was so unique to Potter, and which made Draco’s heart thrum.

In a single, light breath, Potter said, “Maybe.”

Draco smirked deviously. He knew what would get Potter to lose control and admit he wanted him. He reached out and gingerly touched Potter’s hand, which was still grasping the edge of the blanket.

Potter’s breath hitched, and he looked up.

“Will you get me some more water, Potter,” Draco said breathlessly. His cheeks burned, but he knew this would work, if Potter had any trace of animal instinct left in him.

“Oh, sure.” Potter snatched up the glass. “Here you go.”

Draco pretended to fumble with it as he brought it to his mouth, and shivered as the contents spilled all over the front of his hospital gown. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m weak from that horrible trip,” he said. He didn’t sound too convincing to his own ears, but he didn’t really care.

He began to lift the gown over his head.

Potter stirred. “What... what’r you doing?” he asked in a rather loud whisper.

“Don’t worry,” Draco said, kicking his blanket off. “No one’s around.”

He could hear Potter’s breathing grow heavy, and he smirked when he saw Potter’s expression. He was looking at Draco’s cock, pupils dilated and dark, his full lips slightly parted.

Draco slowly ran his hands up his own thighs, from knee to groin, and he heard Potter exhale sharply.

“Mal...Malfoy....” Potter was breathing hard. “What’r you doing?” he repeated.

Draco licked his lips again. He steadied his nerves, and said, “Come here.” His voice sounded deeper than he’d expected.

Potter looked like he would faint. His eyebrows shot up and he stopped breathing altogether. Slowly, he got up from the metal chair, swallowed, and clenched his fists. His gaze raked over Draco’s body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. But Draco was looking at Potter’s face, and stomach tightened with desire when he realized this was Potter’s “determined” pose. He was bracing himself against his fear, preparing to go in all the way.

Potter sat on end of the bed, his eyes hungry. Draco knew that somewhere, innately, Potter wanted him. That knowledge spurred him on, and took Potter’s hand, ignoring Potter’s slight tremors, and pulled Potter on top of him. Potter relented more easily than Draco had expected, placing his hands on either side of Draco’s body as he looked down at him with wonder.

When Potter spoke, his voice was rough. “Are you sure you’re not feverish from that trip?”

Draco exhaled, smiling. “Yes.”

Potter bit his lip.

The next thing Draco knew, Potter’s lips were on his.

Draco felt like he was falling backwards even though his head was already lying down on the pillow. He grabbed Potter’s waist and pulled him closer. It was strangely erotic to feel Potter’s clothed body moving over his bare skin.

Draco knew then that he no longer missed the cave Potter, because this Potter was so much better. This Potter could kiss him, and he could talk to him. And this Potter didn’t think of him as just a hole to fuck; he thought of him as Draco, as evidenced by how desperately he kept repeating Draco’s name between kisses. Draco decided that hearing it was wonderful and he wanted to hear it more often, spilling from Potter’s gorgeously kissable lips. And even though a moment ago -- or a lifetime ago! -- they’d been fighting like old enemies, Draco knew this was the beginning of something new.

Potter said his name over and over again.

 

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


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